## CHAPTER 51: The Gilded Cage
**(Lyra P.O.V)**
The Grand Library of Althelgard Academia is a cathedral of silence. Rows upon rows of mahogany shelves stretch toward a vaulted ceiling painted with the constellations of the Old World, smelling of aged parchment, beeswax, and the faint, metallic tang of residual mana. Usually, this is my sanctuary—the one place where the name "Valerius" carries the weight of intellect rather than just political dread.
I sat at my usual table in the back corner, the shadows of the towering shelves acting as a makeshift fortress. Before me lay a tome bound in cracked leather, its pages yellowed by centuries. Ever since that day in the Forbidden Sector, when Caspian had explained the horrific mechanics of forced revival, I hadn't been able to think of anything else. The idea that sorcery could reach into the void and drag a soul back—even a monstrous one—fascinated and repulsed me in equal measure.
I leaned back, my spine pressing against the hard wood of the chair. My eyes traced the flowing script of the book, but the words were beginning to blur.
"Maybe I should ask Father," a voice whispered in the back of my mind.
"No," I hissed under my breath, my fingers instinctively knotting into my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to crush the thought before it could take root.
A heavy sigh escaped me, echoing softly in the stillness. "That might even be a great topic to start a discussion," I thought bitterly.
"The ethics of necromantic revival. A real ice-breaker for the dinner table."
But even that thought brought a familiar, sharp pang to my chest. Is this what loneliness feels like? To be surrounded by thousands of people, yet to be truly known by none? My life at the Valerius estate was a cycle of hushed hallways and the silent efficiency of maids. My father was a phantom in his own home, a man consumed by study and work, leaving me to wander the echoes of our status.
Being the only daughter of the family with the highest respect beyond even the royals is a gilded cage. People don't see Lyra; they see a legacy. They expect a goddess, a master sorceress who never falters, never cries, and never fails. I try so hard. I push my limits and my head throbbed, all just so he might look at me and see something other than a disappointment.
"I try so hard," I whispered to the empty air.
But it's a never-ending grip, a pressure that sits on your chest and refuses to let go. It's the kind of weight that makes you wonder if you're actually going to snap—if one day, you'll just lose your sanity and let the void take you.
"Who am I, if I can't carry it all?" A darker thought popped into my head, cold and intrusive. "Is it really me he's disappointed in... or is it the fact that I'm not a son?"
Maybe he wanted a male heir to carry the Valerius sword. Or maybe he hates that I didn't take after him—I don't have his cold, calculating features or his terrifying presence. Does he blame me for looking like my mother?
Before I knew it, my breathing turned ragged. A hot, stinging sensation pricked my eyes, and the first tear traced a path down my cheek, splashing onto the ancient parchment of the book. I lowered my head, sobbing silently in the quiet library, feeling smaller than the dust motes dancing in the light.
"Pull yourself together, Lyra," I told myself, my voice trembling. I raised my hands and sharply slapped my own cheeks, the sting forcing the emotions back into the dark corners of my heart. "You are a Valerius. Act like one."
I wiped my face with my sleeve, but as the silence returned, a new sensation crawled up my spine. It was a prickling feeling—not of sadness, but of a presence.
I shifted my gaze to the left, toward the grand entrance of the library. The massive arched doorway was empty. The statues of the founding sorcerers stood guard, indifferent and still.
*SIGH.* "Thinking about Father is starting to screw with my head," I muttered, letting out a hollow chuckle.
I shoved the revival book aside and pulled another toward me: *Effect Awakening*. I needed something technical to ground me. I flipped to the first page, but as soon as my eyes hit the text, the feeling returned. It was intense, irritating, and undeniably real.
Someone was watching me.
My nerves frayed. I turned my head to the right, scanning the rows. I saw a group of second-years huddled over a map; I saw a lone student napping over a pile of scrolls. None of them were looking at me. I turned to the left again. Nothing.
Yet, I could feel it. A gaze so heavy it felt like a physical touch, emanating from the direction of the entrance. It was as if someone was standing right there, cloaked in shadow, taunting me with their invisibility.
"This is strange," I whispered. The feeling didn't fade; it grew. It wasn't the casual glance of a passerby; it was the predatory stare of someone who was measuring me.
"It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid because of what Silas and Caspian said," I tried to reason with myself.
I turned back to the book. *"Effect is a unique manifestation of..."* I paused, closing my eyes and gripping the edge of the table. The sensation was now a roar in my mind.
I stood up so abruptly my chair screeched against the floor, drawing a few annoyed glances from nearby students. I didn't care. I marched toward the entrance, my heart hammering against my ribs. As I got closer, the feeling suddenly vanished, popping like a bubble.
I reached the doorway and looked out into the hallway. Empty. I looked behind the statues. Nothing.
I stood there, frustrated and confused. Was I losing it? But then, just as I was about to turn back, I felt it again. It was faint this time, a weak thread of a sensation, moving away.
It was like a scent on the wind. It was beckoning me. Whether it was a gift I had inherited from my father or just sheer, Valerius stubbornness, I couldn't let it go. My conscience wouldn't rest until I found the source of this intrusion.
I stepped out of the library and began to walk. I moved hastily past a group of girls lingering near the lockers.
"Hi, Lyra!" one called out with a bright smile.
"Hey, Lyra," another added.
"Hello, Miss Valerius," a third said, bowing her head slightly.
"Hiiiiiiiiiii!" the last one sang out.
I didn't even see their faces. I just offered a distracted wave, my feet moving faster and faster. I didn't care that I was being rude; I was on a mission
I could go back to the safety of my books. I could hide in the silence. But I knew that whatever was watching me wouldn't stop.
"I must find it," I whispered, my pace breaking into a run.
"I won't be the one looking over my shoulder."